


Lunar Investigations

by mute90



Series: Sterek Week '18 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Frank the Pug, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hint of Men in black, Inspired by Scooby Doo, M/M, Sterek Week 2018, Sterekscooby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 15:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mute90/pseuds/mute90
Summary: Stiles has a business card saying 'Lunar Investigations' and a Jeep carrying three sturdy bats. He's also got Derek and Frank, but they're new.Inspired by Scooby Doo and Mystery Inc.





	Lunar Investigations

**1\. The Trouble**

As a rule, Stiles tried not to end the day bathed in blood and hoping to God prison bars weren't in his immediate future.

A block from the freaking House of Horrors, he pulled to the side of the road. He used his sweater to scrub the blood from his face and around his ears. It was wet and heavy in his hair, but that wasn't as noticeable at two in the morning. Well, he prayed it wasn't. He drove the twenty minutes to his motel checking and double checking his mirrors for patrol cars. He stripped at the door and shoved the bloody clothes in a plastic bag.

Standing stark naked and possibly terrified, he grabbed his phone and called for help.

“I'm in trouble,” were his first words when ‘help’ picked up. There was a grumpy, unimpressed answer and Stiles rolled his eyes. “Would I call you for help if I didn't have to? You?”

There was silence on the line.

Stiles rubbed at the blood dripping from his hair and inching down his neck. Derek would come. He knew it. Derek knew it. There was just the traditional period of huffing and snarking to get through.

It took almost a full minute, and then Stiles was rattling off his location.

**2\. The “Help”**

Stiles woke up slowly. The towel he’d worn when he'd collapsed into bed was tangled up in his legs. The scratchy motel blanket was pulled up to his chin.

“What are you even doing in LA?”

“Holy Mother of -!” Stiles shouted and twisted. Derek sat there with booted feet propped up on the bed. Stiles’ tiny square corkboards were taken from the drawers and arranged on the little round table next to him. The bag of bloody clothes was on the floor by his chair. Stiles nodded his head agreeably and not at all sincerely. “Sure, Derek, make yourself comfortable. And, hey, scare the crap out of me while you're at it. That never gets old.”

“You’re supposed to be on the other side of the country,” said Derek, ignoring Stiles like an old pro. “In college. I think it was a good one. ”

“College wasn't for me.”

“But here you are, in Los Angeles, getting soaked in someone else's blood.” He brought a foot down just to kick at the bag.

“How do you know that? Did you sniff those, you freak?”

“And look what I found.” Derek held up a business card, white and official. A quarter moon was in the center. Bold and black words were printed after it: Lunar Investigations. ‘We believe you,’ was written below it in smaller type. “I'm guessing that ‘we’ is code for you and yourself.”

Stiles fell back on his pillow. “And you went through my wallet. There's no limits with you, is there?”

Derek huffed and laughed all at once. “Oh, you're gonna lecture me about boundaries? You?”

“Ugh. Why did I call you again?”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, business card still held between two fingers. “Does your dad know about this? Or Scott?”

“Oh my god!” Stiles grabbed the other pillow and held it over his face.

**3\. The Dog**

“Who the fuck is this?” Frank asked.

Stiles enjoyed Derek's shocked expression for the three seconds it appeared. “This is my best buddy Derek, the brawn to my brains. Derek, this is Frank, the Scooby to my Shaggy.”

“Keep it up, kid. I'll be your Cujo.” He bared his teeth and growled, which would've been more intimidating if Lydia couldn't fit him in a handbag.

“Frank is a dog,” said Derek. He sounded tired and fed up. “Of course Frank is a dog. Stiles.”

“He’s a pug,” said Stiles. “Cute, right?”

Frank barked. “Hey! Did you come to talk to him or me? I’m gonna start charging you by the hour, kid, and I don’t come cheap.”

“I need to know if you saw anything last night. And tell Derek what you told me.”

“For Christ's sake. A lady came through here. She'd bring me sausage every day. The expensive kind, you know? None of that dog food crap. One day, she passes by and she gives me no sausage. Suspicious, right? I follow her until she gets to that wannabe mansion a few blocks down. She goes in. A few second later, I hear yelling and then nothing.” He swiped his paw through the air in front of him. “I crawled into the bushes and waited a while.” He jutted his head forward and lowered his voice theatrically. “ _She never came out.”_

Stiles and Derek exchanged looks, eyebrows raised all around. Stiles swore he saw Derek’s lips twitch. So, he winked. An actual smile formed on Derek’s face then, utterly exasperated but fond. “Fine. You said something about last night?”

“Yeah, I was still on surveillance after your buddy hightailed it out of there.” Frank looked Stiles up and down. “You looked dead, by the way. I thought I’d be seeing you on the Morning News. I know a lot of those guys. Sometimes, I even place bets on who’s gonna kick it next. A dog’s got a sense, you know?”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it. A woman came out a few minutes after you did. She had a towel on her head because she was bleeding good. What did you hit her with?”

“A bat,” said Stiles.

“Nice.” Frank yipped suddenly and shifted a bit until he was in the shadow of Derek’s legs. “Crap. I gotta go. Dog catchers. I swear those assholes got it out for me.”

**4\. The Tacos**

They ate street tacos in Stiles’ Jeep with the windows rolled down and salsa carefully placed on the dashboard. It was a bit like old times - but less violent. “I don't have to tell my dad and Scott everything,” said Stiles.

“You’re not telling them because you think they wouldn't approve.”

“I know they wouldn’t approve,” he corrected. He’d known that in the moment he’d left school, known it as he made his website, and known it as he called home and made noncommittal grunting noises when his dad asked about classes. “It’s what I want to do though.”

“Then be mature and tell them that,” said Derek.

Stiles made a noncommittal grunting noise.

Derek rolled his eyes and his next words had a sharp edge. “Or keep lying and sneaking around. I guess that’s something you’ll just never grow out of.” Stiles responded by biting viciously into a chili and then choking on it. Derek pounded at his back until he could breathe again. Then, it transformed into patting and squeezing his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“I liked you better when you were a failwolf,” Stiles snapped. “Evolved Derek got judge-y.”

Derek looked at him, hand still on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You’re right. We all do things in our own time. We both know I did.”

Stiles briefly thought of shaking off the hand on his shoulder, but Derek sounded sincere. He had changed. They both had. So, Stiles nodded and finished his taco.

(He stole an extra taco from Derek too. Derek let him.)

**5\. The Case**

“You’re sure this is witches?” asked Derek.

“Most definitely a coven.” Stiles shifted the spare bat in his hand. He’d dropped the other one in the house, but he kept two spares in the jeep. He had a mit and a ball too, just in case someone asked questions. “They’re compelling their victims to walk right into their house using two objects. One gets slipped into the victim’s pocket or purse. When they touch it, it activates and they feel like they have to get to the second one. That one’s at the house where they get sliced and sacrificed to the God of Power or Youth. I’m not really sure which. It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you need in the house?” Derek was leaning against the side of the Jeep tossing the ball in the air.

Stiles thought of dogs and their fascination with balls but saved that one for later. “The altar. I have to screw with the altar they set up for their sacrifices. The whole thing is very formal. You have to set it up a certain way and then break it down a certain - very respectful - way.”

“If you don’t?”

“If you don’t, the God of Whatever gets very angry and takes it out on the witches who set it up. They can get warts or, you know, their head can explode. I heard it can get nasty. The point is, someone will learn a lesson tonight.”

“There’s no other options?”

“Well, I tried talking to one of them last time. She tried to drown me in a bucket of human blood.” Stiles leaned against the car, his shoulder brushing Derek’s. “You can try if you want. I’ll wait out here.”

Derek shook his head. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll pass.” He bumped lightly into Stiles. “So I’m here to be the muscle?”

“Funny thing: when she was drowning me in blood, all I could think of was that I was alone. No backup. No pack.” Stiles leaned his head back and looked up at the moon. “Omega.”

Derek tossed the ball onto the passenger seat, aggressive suddenly. His eyes shown blue when he looked at Stiles. “You were never Omega, Stiles.” He smiled. His sharp teeth were shining. “They’re about to find that out.”

**6\. The Confrontation**

Boom! Pow! Roar!

“You meddling little shit!”

Crash! Roar again!

Bark! “And that’s for killing my sausage lady, you jackasses!”

Bam!

“Go Cujo!”

“Stiles!”

“I was talking to the dog!”

Swing. Crash. “Homerun!”

“Nooooo!”

OUCH!!!

“No, really, ouch. I now fear the wrath of God.”

**7\. The End**

Stiles called his dad, confessed some things, and ended with, “So, Derek and I went into business together.”

Derek glared and threw carnitas at his head. Really, he should’ve expected that after taking half the payment from the witch's nosy and concerned neighbor. He also put Stiles’ business card in his wallet and threw his bag of clothes in the Jeep. These were clear signs. Stiles smiled like an asshole through the rest of the disappointed and frustrated ramblings of his father.

It took a while, but Noah did finally sigh the sigh of the defeated. “You’re going to do whatever you want, aren’t you?”

“You know I love you.”

“Right. I love you. You’re my favorite son,” his dad assured him. “Can you put Derek on the phone now?”

Derek stiffened in his seat, but he took the phone. Stiles listened in on the string of reassurances. “Yeah...of course...I’ll make sure...I know...oh, I’ll make him…”

He was distracted by barking outside of his window. Frank was there, just a couple feet from the door. He was kicking his paw in the air repeatedly as Stiles watched him. “What are you doing?”

Frank put his paw down and stood alert. “Hitchhiking. What does it look like?”

In the passenger seat, Derek told his dad, “No we’re not traveling with a dog.” Stiles opened his door, and he added, “Stiles, no.”

Frank settled in the backseat while Derek hung up the phone and rubbed a hand over his face. “Buddy. Hey, pal. Where are we going now?” Frank asked. “I heard about vampires up in Washington. Ooh, there’s witches in San Francisco. I hear they’re the good kind though. No, I got it! I got it! I heard about some crazy shit going down in some small town up north. What was it? Oh, yeah. Beacon! Beacon Hills.”

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Malia and Kira later join up to build the Lunar gang (Or is it the 'Frank' gang?) 
> 
> And Frank the Pug is from Men in Black. You can think he really is an alien or just based off one. 
> 
> Written for Sterek Week Day 1: Scooby Wolf.


End file.
